


New Year Resolution

by IdLikeToThink



Category: GMM, Good Mythical Morning, Rhett and Link
Genre: Real people, false depiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-06 01:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdLikeToThink/pseuds/IdLikeToThink
Summary: DISCLAIMER (because this one definitely needs it):So... this is hard to post. But I felt like I had to do it, for myself. This is based on Rhett and Link's friendship and lives, but it is completely made up and false, it is one hundred percent based on my personal experience, though. So, I cannot put enough of a WARNING on this fic. If you don't like Link questioning his friendship with Rhett, or questioning his marriage, or questioning himself and his life in general, then don't you dare read this. DON'T YOU DARE. And don't you for one minute think it's true about them. I'm nervous enough as it is. And I mean EVERYTHING in this is my experience, I wrote everything for a reason, even how they met. (This will, for sure, have future updates, I don't know how many. If anyone happens to be interested, I'd honestly be surprised.)





	1. Chapter 1

He knew it wasn't going to be easy, that's why he had to just come right out and say it; no holding back, no sugar-coating it. The band-aid method.

 

It was their last day together before their two week break, which meant that it was crucial for Link to speak his mind, before they went back home to their families, and reunited in the new year, where he'd have to pretend he was still okay with the way things were.  

 

The truth was, he hadn't been okay for a long time. It began a few years back, his unhappiness presenting itself as a slow dawning realization, one he tried to smother down, brushing it off as selfish and irrational. But the fact was, he wasn't selfish, he was completely selfless, and it had taken him way too long to accept that. Ever since he had met Rhett at the young age of six he had devoted himself entirely to the older boy, welcoming him into his home and heart, making every decision based on how it would affect their friendship, molding himself into what he thought his new best friend wanted him to be, all because he wanted something special. And their relationship had been special, it had certainly started out that way, considering how they decided to be friends in the first place; it was clearly meant to be, on an extremely cosmic level. What were the odds? Two boys, writing bad words, in the same class room, who just happened to be kindred spirits. They had clicked immediately, and the coloring pages beneath their palms had spoken to them on a surreal level, calling out to them, flat out screaming that they'd become something just as majestic. No, it couldn't have been just a coincidence, and perhaps that's why Charles had tried so hard, put in so much of himself, or, in reality, lost so much of himself, because he trusted Rhett, and, more so, he trusted the universe, for, if it had given him such a blatant sign, then, surely, it wouldn't steer him wrong. This was his chance at a bright future, because, God knew he wasn't happy to begin with; although he had been young, he knew things weren't right at home, he knew he had to make something of himself, for himself, and for his mother.

 

Yes, it had started out innocently, everything had seemed so positive, Rhett had been a physical beacon of hope, only made more true by the fact that he was so tall. Tall, beautiful, and promising. But Rhett always called the shots, and it could have had something to do with him being the older of the two; whether that was the case or not, Link had always followed, hardly ever questioning, only doing so when he felt it was truly worth the fight. And he had been happy to do it, to walk blindly alongside his best friend on the path they had agreed to travel down, going along with every fleeting suggestion and idea that presented itself; it was exciting, and he had the nagging feeling that it would all pay off.

 

It didn't take long for him to realize he felt strongly for Rhett, that he loved him more than a boy should love another boy, and that was a realization that was easy to admit; if he were honest, it had been immediate. That spark upon finding out they had committed the same crime, the smiles they had shared, their closeness as they sat coloring, completely forgetting that there was a whole classroom outside playing. It was instant, it was soul mate material. But life couldn't be perfect, it doesn't work that way, for anyone, even mythical boys with the highest of potential. Things get hard, and they get real confusing.

 

The years went by, and with all the effort Link had put in, he was sure Rhett would have come to the same conclusion, that they were made for each other, that they had been brought together by fate, that they were in love and, despite what their parents thought, and the community they were brought up in, they should be together, as they were supposed to be. But Rhett wasn't on the same page, he may have seemed like he was at times, he may have given looks that could have been perceived as more than just a simple look of admiration, he might have touched him in certain ways that made Link feel they were making progress, not to mention all of the drunken kisses, and hints at more, the weary and curious groping in the dark on rainy nights. But they were just that, curiosity getting the best of the taller of the two young men, and, by that time, Link had grown exhausted of trying. They were meant to be something, but that didn't mean they were meant to be a _thing_.

 

He met Christy, and, lord help him, he felt guilty from the beginning; settling wasn't something a proud man did, but he did just that. He settled. If he couldn't have Rhett, he was going to take the first person he could get. She was cute, she was responsive to his advances, she actually made him feel wanted, and he smiled every time he told himself he had finally found a partner. But it was an empty relief, it was just something to help him keep distance from the man he had already considered his life partner. It didn't make sense to have two partners, it was redundant, it was tiresome, it added to the turmoil that had started to creep back into his soul. It was a lose-lose situation, if he lost Rhett, sure he'd still have Christy, but he wanted Rhett, and if he lost Christy, he still couldn't have Rhett, he'd always only have a piece of the fantasy. And it wasn't that he didn't love Christy, gosh, she had done so much for him, supported him, put up with their shit, moving, traveling, taking care of kids, and accepting that Link wasn't able to help out as much as any husband should. Yes he fucking loved her, he was in awe of her. But was she right for him? Very unlikely. They had met at the peak of Link's denial of who he was, at a time when he simply acted without much thought. The Charles she met that night at the skating rink was not the Charles he was at his very core. And that made his heart ache, for both of them.

 

So much life. Years wasted. Good times, _very_ good times, times he should be thankful for, and he was, but, damn, did he wish he had been able to show himself. Thirty years. He'd fully given himself over to the people in his life, his best friend, his wife and children, his fans. Thirty years of hiding, of holding back, of swallowing the pain that had collected deep within his bones, filling every waking day with an underlining agony. Thirty years that had started with a man who meant more to him than his own life, and he was about to shatter everything they had built between them. Because he couldn't take it anymore. They had definitely built something, alright, a gigantic wall that Link had come to admit was too high and torturous for him to climb. The light had flickered out, and it was his time to shine. He was almost forty, and mid-life crisis' were no joke. This may have been the start of a mental breakdown, but he had to stand up for himself. It was now, or years from now, when he would, no doubt, truly become nothing but a hollow shell, wishing he had done something.

 

He stood at the door to their shared office, reflecting, taking deep breaths, thinking... But he told himself he wouldn't think, he made it perfectly clear to himself that he wouldn't back out.

 

Band-aid.

 

With one final intake of air, he entered.

 

Rhett glanced up to meet his gaze and everything stilled, the silence, the eye-contact, the expecting look, it was all more terrifying than he could have imagined. But it had to be done. His lips parted and a beat followed before he found his voice.

 

"I think..." He licked his lips. Words. Sometimes the right words were so hard to find. "I think this year.. our break shouldn't just be about taking a break from work, I think it should be more about taking a break  from us... indefinitely."

 

Watching Rhett process what he had just said was painful. They never spoke to one another on their holiday breaks, but extending that distance beyond those two weeks? That was unheard of. And Link could see every ounce of hurt and confusion.

 

"Well... what do you mean?" was the bearded man's husky response, "We have a show, Link, we're gonna have to see each other, and there's no way anyone is going to let you  back out of that. You have a contract."

 

Annoyance. It wasn't hurt, it was annoyance, irritation that things might not go his way; he had clearly seen this coming, he wasn't stupid. What Link didn't understand was, why wasn't he fighting it?

 

Link really shouldn't have been surprised, they had already been drifting apart for a while now. But it still hurt like hell.  

     

Thirty years. What had it all meant if it simply came to this?

 

"I know that," he shot back, more defensive than he would have liked to me, "But no hanging out off camera. No texting. Nothing."

 

God it was hard. So fucking, stupidly hard. He hated himself already.

 

"Fine, Charles," Rhett replied, his focus returning to his computer screen, "Are we done here?"

 

He had to will himself not to cry.

_Don't fucking do it. You weak bastard._

 

When, truly, he was stronger than he had ever been. This was it, this was the beginning. And with that, he left.

 

He was going to find himself.   

 

 

 

 

                


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. It is late, and I have to get up earlier than I would like. But I just had to write more. I'm going to try to write every night, and if that means posting little pieces at a time, then I'm gonna do it. Thank you so much to the people who have commented, and I apologize right now if you end up being disappointed by any of this. This is very personal and I can't believe I'm doing it.

The transition had started with his hair, the length had to go.

 

He had kept it for longer than he would have liked, simply because it had become a running gag; Rhett's hair went up, and his went down. Great, wonderful. But it had run its course, and Link needed a change. Bad.

 

Of course it wasn't easy for him, anxiety riddled his thoughts as he questioned whether it was a smart move, career-wise; his fans had grown so accustomed to his youthful appearance. But there he went again, putting his job first. If they were true fans, they wouldn't care if he changed things up a bit, it was just hair. He didn't know why that was so hard for him to believe. Maybe it was partly because he had just begun to accept that he had been lying, not only to himself, but to his fans; opening up to a large group of people who thought they knew you was a terrifying thing. And partly because he had never been good at making major decisions. But this was something he had to do on his own, if he had consulted anyone, they would have most likely talked him out of it. It was time for him to start making his own choices. For him to do what _he_ wanted, for him to _look_ how he wanted, to _feel_ how he wanted, and to _act_ how he wanted.

 

So he had done it. And that first day at work, boy, it had felt strange.

 

  _But you loved the hair._ Rhett had said.

 

No, he didn't. And it was sad that he had really believed that. Not once did Link say, _man, I love my hair so much, I want to keep it for the rest of my life; I want to look and act like a child forever._ It was time to grow up, and he hated that it had taken him thirty years to do it.

 

Everyone had regarded him with odd looks, like he had gone through puberty in the span of twenty-four hours, and that was hard to take. Because that's how he felt, and it was utterly mortifying. But he was proud, so dang proud.

 

Link sat on his living room couch, running his fingers through his hair. That had been sign number one for Rhett that things were changing, and he hadn't been happy; the long hair had made him happy, but that was too bad, because it wasn't up to him. The awkward tension between them had been the most uncomfortable to date, and extremely unpleasant to endure. His supposed best friend just couldn't bring himself to be supportive, after all the times Link had been supportive of his decisions, painstakingly so. And that was the first time Link told himself that he didn't give a shit how Rhett felt. He felt good, he felt real fucking good.

 

He sighed, he didn't know what to do with himself; the confrontation had happened so fast. It wasn't even much of a confrontation, it was more like severing the last fraying thread that had been holding them together, and they both knew it was going to break eventually. But the lack of protest had made him feel empty. Which confused him, this was what he had wanted; it was just that he would have liked to think that Rhett cared a least a little, but it was apparent that he didn't, not to mention, he had never attempted to live life without Rhett, and, considering it had only been forty-five minutes since he left the office, it was all too new, sudden, and terrifying. But there was no going back, it was irreversible, he knew that, and he knew it _had_ to happen. He felt it more strongly now than ever. Although he knew he was going to miss the older man more than he could bare, their relationship had become too unhealthy; Rhett had hurt him countless times, and the last straw had been pulled months ago.

 

Part of him wanted to hate Rhett more than what was necessary, to claim he was a horrible person for not understanding what he was going through, to damn him to hell, or maybe even do something to ruin his life, but he could never bring himself to do something so shallow, no matter how unfair it was that Rhett was happy with life and he wasn't; he hadn't exactly been honest about what he had wanted over the years, and Rhett had no real way of knowing that. But he could have asked. He could have invested the same amount of affection and energy into being closer. He maybe could have been a little more honest, himself, save them both the trouble of walking around Link's feelings by flat out saying, _there's no chance in hell that I will ever feel the same way, so quit it with your shit, Link_.

 

He didn't even know what he had expected Rhett to do. Leave Jessie? No, he loved Jessie with all his heart, they had a real, deep, spiritual connection. It wasn't Rhett's fault that he had missed out on finding someone like that.

 

Shame on him.

 

What a pity that he had been so caught up in a man who seemed like he had been sent from Heaven just for him.              

 

It was toward the end of his reverie that Christy entered, carrying a load of groceries, hurrying past him, glancing at him just briefly before passing through into the kitchen. She didn't even pause to greet him, but he didn't blame her. What was he doing? Just sitting there like a lazy piece of shit. He couldn't even remember the last time he went shopping.

 

He heard her voice call out to him, distant and only half-concerned, "Need something to eat? I'll have it ready in fifteen."

 

Fuck. He stared at the black T.V. screen. How did it come to this? She didn't deserve this.

 

"No," he called back weakly as he went to stand, "I'll get it."

 

He was done relying on others.      


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much for me writing every night. I can hardly focus on anything, my health has been so bad. But this means so much to me that I'm determined to stick with it, even if no one reads it.
> 
> The part about meeting a musician is something I think about often when I think about my former best friend. Again, all of this is said because it's what I'm going through. Making it public might be odd, but I have always felt that writing is a good way to express yourself. I just find it funny how easy it is for me to incorporate my experience into this fandom. It also makes me way nervous.

****

Even though changing his hair had been a major leap forward, he still had a hard time letting go, and, before he knew it, two more years had went by in a flash. He had been thrown off course completely, they'd had so much going on that he didn't even have a second to focus on himself. They had always wanted a scripted show, so, when they finally had the opportunity to make one, he wasn't about to blow it by going on a self-fulfilling journey. Then there was the book, which had been a bit too sentimental for where he was at emotionally, his nostalgia ship had already sailed a while back, but it kept him busy. Then there was Buddy System season two, and, for a month or so, he began to feel like maybe things _could_ work between him and Rhett. That definitely wasn't the case. He found that out quickly after they went back to filming Good Mythical Morning.

 

The hyper-awareness of how Rhett treated him crept back in, growing stronger every time Rhett kept talking without allowing him to get a word in edge-wise, every time he poked fun at him in a tone that was a little too punctuated for his liking, and, especially, when he acted like he was the more handsome and entertaining of the two. Link had felt used for far too long, so long that he wouldn't have been surprised if Rhett _had_ just been using him. For as long as he could remember, Rhett had been self-conscious, although he really had no reason to be, which Link constantly tried to convince him of. It was hard, and mentally draining, to tirelessly help sustain Rhett's self image. All Link wanted was to have fun and be confident like he had always dreamt of being, but, instead, he had to hold back, because he didn't want to hurt his best friend's feelings. Whenever he attempted to be on the same level, Rhett quickly shot him down, using every moment in which Link chose to speak his mind as an opportunity to put him off as stupid. Eventually Link had given up, willingly fading into the background, allowing Rhett to take control of every conversation, as he always did, all because he wasn't quite sure the humiliation was worth it anymore, nor the amount of energy it took to fight it.

 

But, as twenty-seventeen drew to an end, he knew something had to change. Twenty-eighteen was where it was at. It was going to be _his_ year.

 

That first night off was rough. He couldn't sleep. And as he lied awake, he felt Christy sleeping soundly beside him. She hadn't seemed to notice his distressed state, not thinking to stop and ask if he was alright, but it could have been because she was so busy with her own life. She had the kids to look after, her friends and family, her hobbies, she had enough to keep herself occupied without having to constantly check up on him. Although she might have been thrilled, he knew he couldn't bother her with the decision he had made, and how much anxiety it caused him, she had heard so much about Rhett over the past eighteen years that he knew she was sick of it. It was then that it dawned on him that he had no one to talk to, no one who could possibly understand what it was like to devote yourself to someone without fully thinking it through, to go years pretending you were what you had initially chocked yourself up to be,  or what it was like to be in a marriage just because you didn't want to be alone. But he was alone. He could honestly say that now.

 

His thoughts drifted back to his fondest memory, meeting Merle Haggard. It had been a dream come true, something he had fantasized about but never truly thought was realistic. That man had meant so much to them; they'd listen to him constantly, talk about him _constantly_ , looked up to him, felt inspired by him, dressed like him, compared themselves to him. The majority of their friendship and bonding had been based around their shared love for the artist. It had been such a special moment, the type of moment he hadn't experienced with anyone else; it had meant more to him than any previous major event. He had cried. It was certainly a moment that made him think, more than ever, that love could transcend anything.

 

It had felt unreal. And even now, as he looked back, he thought about how incredible it was that it had actually happened. It was that moment that made their separation all the more hard to accept. Could he not only let go of his best friend, but could he let go of such a wonderful memory?

 

The answer was yes. His stomached had churned at the mere thought of Rhett. Who knew if the experience had even meant as much to the other man? He hadn't seen him crying his eyes out.

 

Now he really couldn't sleep, so he glanced over at Christy's relaxed form, hoping she wouldn't feel it if he attempted to get out of bed. Carefully, feeling almost pathetic for caring if she knew he was getting up, he lifted his body and stood. With a sudden, painful, seize of his heart, he took his phone from the nightstand and crept silently out of the room. He ended up in the bathroom. He almost laughed at himself. Why had he gone to the bathroom and not the living room like a normal person? He knew the answer to that. It was the one place he felt like he could get any kind of privacy, solace from life, even. No one bothered him there, nothing had to be done except for relax and relieve yourself. It was his go to place for solitude. Not to mention, if Christy _did_ get up, she'd be less likely to ask him any questions.

 

With a sigh, and a nervous run of his fingers through his hair, he unlocked his phone. He felt strange as he went to looking through his contacts, taking inventory of who he considered a friend. It wasn't a long list. It was a list that came very close to being non-existent, and there wasn't even one person he'd honestly feel like he could open up to. How sad was that? It instantly made everything seem more bleak. His heart felt heavy as he opened up Twitter, killing time by reading through tweets directed to him, hoping it would give his brain something to do before trying to sleep again. It was nice to be reminded of how many people supported him, how they all wanted to talk to him and how they missed him when he went too long without tweeting, but he had never liked the expectation that fell on him to be consistent, the thought of having to come up with something to say every day gave him anxiety. It wasn't like he could be friends with any of them, anyway. Right? Trust the wrong person and things you didn't want to get out, would, and, before you know it, suddenly everyone knows what you've tried so hard to keep hidden. Besides, he also didn't think it was worth the risk of not making an actual connection. He couldn't afford any of that. So he looked on, but didn't dare touch.

 

After a while, his eyes began to droop, and he figured he'd been sitting on the toilet for much longer than was healthy, so he decided to trudge back to bed.       


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to say something with every post, but I don't know what to say, other than this is honestly the only thing keeping me going right now.
> 
> And Link is, in no way, not in good shape, or that much of an older man. Just sayin’. Pshhh. But you know those negative thoughts. And I have a lot of them about myself.

The tour had been a huge deal, it was an excuse to show new fans how it all began, and a chance to remind older ones what they stood for. It would have been more exciting if it didn't feel like they were pole-vaulting themselves toward a giant dead end. It was something they figured could only be done once, unless they majorly vamped it up for a second run, and it felt all too finalizing. So much time and energy had went into it that, ultimately, it ended up feeling very anti-climactic.

 

But, for Link, that wasn't even the worst part. What utterly destroyed him, was the fact that his own wife hadn't even watched a single performance. He knew that she knew him better than anyone, that she knew his past and all about his line of work, but she could have suffered through one night, just to show some support. If she were asked, she would have claimed that she was as supportive as any good wife should be, but she never showed any interest in anything he and Rhett did, never once asked about anything they did on the show, or asked about what Link was working on and how it was going; she didn't even watch their show, or listen to their podcast. Their marriage had become a do-your-own-thing, your-job-is-your-job-and-mine-is-mine relationship, and Link would be lying if he said that he was happy with that arrangement. But he never voiced how he felt, too worried about losing her. The ironic thing about that was, he never fully had her attention in the first place, and that, whether it was selfish of him or not, was something he craved. All he wanted was someone who truly cared about his work, someone who invested interest in what he did every day, what he put so much effort into. That was clearly something she couldn't give him, and that hurt.

 

He awoke on his first day off much later than he usually did, which upset him greatly. He wasn't one of those people who slept in, even when he had the opportunity. Somehow, it felt like a waste of time. Because it was. He'd fight that argument to his grave, in no way was over-sleeping good for you, or productive. But, as he stared groggily up at the ceiling, it hit him hard. He had nothing better to do. And, glancing beside him, seeing that Christy had already gotten up and hadn't thought to come in and wake him, staying in bed actually felt more comforting than facing her.

 

The same thoughts that plagued him the night before flooded his mind. He felt so lost with no one to turn to, and nothing to keep him busy. All he had to look forward to was Christmas, and that certainly did nothing to lift his spirits, if anything, it made everything worse. He'd have to be around people who already made him feel awkward, do his best to hide the depression that was all too quickly beginning to consume him (it hadn't even been twenty-four hours), and hope that he could pretend he was still madly in love with the woman he had agreed to share his entire life with. It was going to be awful. At least he didn't have to buy anyone presents, that was a plus.

 

Deciding he had spent enough time being a lazy bed-dweller, he forced himself to get up and head downstairs. Coffee had already been made, so he went to making himself a cup. Christy entered shortly after. He didn't bother with a greeting, not even the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips, and he definitely didn't go out of his way to give her a kiss, but neither did she.

 

"The boys are coming over for a final play date."

 

His stomach lurched, because he knew that, by "the boys", she meant Shepherd and Locke. He'd completely spaced how awkward that might feel, he'd planned on cutting Rhett out of his life, but what about his children? They were practically the cousins of his own children, and that was something he had to accept, there was no way out of seeing them. Unless...

 

"'Kay, I think I'll just head to the gym," was his timid reply as he took a sip of his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, he just knew she was giving him an incredulous glare. Yes, he knew he was terrible for expecting her to watch four children, but maybe she could get Lily to help. He didn't give her any time to protest as he quickly left the kitchen, heading quickly back upstairs to their room to change.

 

His heart beat wildly as he shakily rummaged through drawers for something to wear. He felt rushed and frantic, knowing he was being childish and irresponsible, but the thought of seeing those boys sent him into a state of panic that he hadn't been ready for. He'd been their "uncle" since they were born, he had let them into his heart, just as he had Rhett, and the fact that he was no longer going to be friends with their father made it feel- wrong.

 

He finally managed to change, and downed his coffee just as fast.

 

There was no goodbye as he left.

 

The gym gave him some time to clear his mind, a chance to process what he was going through, almost like a form of meditation. It also gave him something to do. He decided, then, that it was something he was going to do every day. He needed to be better to himself anyway; although the thought of letting himself go was very tempting, he knew he'd regret it.

 

An hour a day. He could do that. Give himself time to think.

 

The downside was, what he thought about scared him.

 

One, he needed to be more social, but he needed new friends; the ones he had didn't count, they didn't know the real him, and he had no idea how to change that. Second, the fact that Christy wasn't right for him was becoming alarmingly clear, but he couldn't leave her, he couldn't do that to her, right? All the years of commitment wasted. But people get divorced, it's a thing.

 

It's a thing. It's a thing. It's a thing

 

He repeated that mantra with every heavy downfall of his feet on the treadmill.

 

 Divorce is a thing.

 

Divorce is a thing that happens to people.

 

But he still couldn't bring himself to actually think that divorce was a thing that happened to someone like him. The idea was too heavy to bear, too stressful, too terrifying. Which led to thought number three.

 

Hopelessness.

 

He'd never be happy. He could fake it, he could try to convince himself he was, but he wasn't, and he truly thought he never would be, that there was no point in trying, that everything he did from here on out would be pointless. If he did put himself out there again, who would want him? He was an older man, he wasn't in the best shape, he had a family, and he had a job that promoted him as being in a perfect, happy, loving marriage that was unconditional and held no room for doubt. That was a lot of baggage, and it was every single one of those key aspects that convinced him he was trapped.

 

But, despite being drained of all hope, and having very  little motivation, he was going to try.   

 

He'd be happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying so hard to stay motivated, and, believe me, it is not easy. Depression can really take a toll on a person. It’s also written so badly that I almost can’t stand it. 
> 
> I think it's obvious that my head was in the gutter with this part, too. Ha! Man, I am all over the place.

Over the years, Link and Christy had set aside a couple nights a week where they'd sit down on the couch together and watch shows they had deemed "theirs". They were nights to look forward to, some good, quality time with one another while catching up on something they both enjoyed. But, as the years passed, he found himself alone in the viewing experience; although Christy sat beside him, he'd glance over to find her zoning out, obviously uninterested, or he'd look over to find her falling asleep, and question if they had to save it for another night. It had put a damper on what was supposed to be fun and relaxing. He felt guilty for being bothered by her nodding out, she had a lot to deal with during the day, but it had made the past-time utterly discouraging, to the point where he figured he was better off just watching on his own.

 

After his visit to the gym, he did a week's worth of shopping, lingering at each store for longer than was necessary, knowing he had created an awkward situation back at home. Not only was it selfish of him to leave his wife with a bunch of children, but it was also selfish to stay away for so long; he figured running some errands would, at least, smooth over some of the tension. He would have felt worse if his personal happiness weren't at stake, he just couldn't force himself to keep living the same life; if he had finally allowed himself to get rid of one thing that made him unhappy, everything had to go.

 

He didn't bother with T.V. night that evening, and Christy didn't fight it, which didn't surprise him. Instead, he got himself cozy in bed and did what he had never taken the time to do. Look through fan art. Not only was it a fun task to fall asleep to, but it gave him a true sense of how talented the Mythical Beasts could be; he already knew their fans were impressive, but  seeing it for himself heightened that knowledge. Most of what he found was innocent, which, honest to God, he was thankful for. He even dared to sift through some of the fan fiction, but strayed far from the ones that "shipped" the duo, having a feeling that it would just upset him, reading what he had wanted for so many years and never got to have; he was too curious to see if the writers were as talented as the drawers. He came to find that they were. There were so many different types of stories that caught, and actually held, his interest; alternate versions of their lives where they had different jobs, or they met in a different way, there were even some set in a different era. It was all pretty fascinating.

 

Needless to say, it had become a new past time for him.

 

For the next few days, he had devoted most of his time to looking further into how their fans interacted with one another. He found himself migrating to a site he had never really gotten into. Tumblr. He quickly found that, that's where the majority of their shippers resided, akin to a massive horde, and it easily overwhelmed him. Again, he found himself wishing he could talk to them, but he settled for reading what they posted. It reassured his self-conscious nature when he saw how attractive they thought he was, despite his age and his graying hair (his "salt-and-pepper" look being another aspect about himself he didn't want to hide). He was also pleased to see how kind and considerate they were to one another, it was truly a very polite and good-natured- fandom? He supposed that's what they called it, from what he could gather. But he had been right about the ill feeling he got when they swore, up and down, that they had always been more than just friends; but he knew it was something he'd have to get over, he couldn't deny them their fun.

 

One site he couldn't see himself ever getting back into was Instagram, but he secretly still logged in, for the same purpose, to spy on people. He felt weird for thinking about it that way, but it was because he _did_ feel weird about it; but he enjoyed seeing everyone's photos just as much as the next person. The thing was, he couldn't keep himself from looking at what Rhett was up to. And it was the same with Twitter. The other man had begun to post an ungodly amount, seemingly turning to social media to fill whatever gap Link had left him with, which Link knew didn't even come close to the one he was dealing with. It got him to thinking, maybe he should post more? But he was so bad at it. At least, that's what he had convinced himself, sure that no one cared about anything he had to say, not when they had Rhett to indulge them. He decided to post a couple of his favorite fan pieces, figuring it was something, he even responded to a couple people. But it didn't make him feel much better. It wasn't the kind of interaction he wanted.

 

He got to thinking, maybe it would be a good idea to try salvaging what he had with Christy, open up more about who he really was, and what he was really into. She hadn't watched GMM enough to see the kind of flirting he did with Rhett, and he had never been at such a loss that it had crossed his mind to try it on her. Things were already rocky, so he figured he had nothing to lose.

 

Looking through his wardrobe, he picked out the tightest pair of pants he could find and put them on. Then, going to the mirror, he tousled his hair into what he thought best resembled a bedroom look. He then did something he had never dared to do with Christy, he applied some of her lipstick, which, he came to find, disappointedly so, was limited in color choice. Once he finally felt confident enough, he went downstairs to find her in the living room, watching one of her “solo” shows.

 

Approaching the coffee table, he bent over to pick up the remote, wiggling his behind for her, what he had hoped, enjoyment before straightening and changing it to a music station. He was happy to find that there was a rhythmic song playing. Setting the remote down, he turned to face her, finding a confused look plastered on her face. He smirked, finding it amusing before altering the smirk into one of a more cheeky nature, doing his best to convey his intention with a sultry gaze. Without any more warning, his hips began to roll in a _very_ feminine and, even more so, provocative manner. Her face scrunched up as he drew closer to her, and, before she knew it, he was practically grinding on where her knees hung off the edge of the couch.

 

"What're you doing, Charles?" she asked, sounding annoyed, but not enough to scare him off just yet.

 

He dipped his head down to nuzzle at her playfully, his hips still gyrating to the music. And then he said it. He said it and it felt good. "Daddy wants you to come to bed."

 

She pulled away faster than a hand placed on a hot stove, "That's weird, hon; what's gotten into you?" She squinted, "Is that lipstick?" With a heavy sigh, she moved to get up, "I'm sorry, but I'm too tired for this."

 

He moved back, his mood instantly shot to pieces, his chest feeling like it was a cavernous pit of despair. He knew it, he had really seen this coming, but he had to know for sure. She wasn't into it, she never had been and never would be. What was the point of being with someone if you couldn't have fun the way you wanted?

 

He sat down on the couch, defeated, allowing her to go to bed alone. He was utterly embarrassed and knew he wouldn't be able to bring himself to join her.

 

At least they had a nice couch.                 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quality of this story has really declined, and it's partially because I've been unsure if I should still write it. Also, I tried to write it as quick as possible because my back actually is killing me.

For the next few days leading to Christmas, Link found himself waking up with an aching back; he wanted to blame it solely on the couch, but he knew that it had more to do with the way he'd been feeling. The brain played a huge role in keeping up bodily function, and he'd been- maybe not deathly (that might be going a bit overboard), but he'd definitely been _severely_ depressed. It made life much worse. It made it far more difficult to get up in the morning.

 

He hardly spoke to Christy, avoiding her at all costs, which meant he had to be cautious in his own home, although, of course, it wasn't truly his. His children, though, he showered with affection every chance he got, fearing the inevitable, knowing that the chance of not seeing them as much, if he decided on divorce, was real. And Jade, well, he hogged her attention, using her as a security blanket of sorts; not that he hadn't always kept her as close as possible, he loved that dog like a fourth child.

 

His life consisted of sleeping, working out, being a ghost on social media, and feeling sorry for himself. It was the same dreary day on repeat.

 

When the day of the flight to North Carolina rolled around, it had filled him with a chaotic mixture of anxiety, stress, and impending doom. He rushed to get the kids ready, triple checked to make sure he had everything he needed for himself, and arranged a ride for the five of them. The drive was silent on his part as he accepted that he'd have to deal with his in-laws for another year. One more year... At least that thought brought him some relief. He had never liked Christy's parents, her brother was alright, but her parents- Christ, they had always made him feel so awkward and unwelcome.

 

Pretending everything was fine around her family was even harder than he had anticipated. He barely smiled, he hardly spoke, and when he did, it was often a grunt of acknowledgement, a shrug, a nod, or a half-assed one word response. It wasn't too off for him, he'd always been quiet, not the most social person, but he could tell that everyone had quickly decided to keep their distance. He found himself staring blankly at Christy's mother, he figured she'd be overjoyed if her daughter didn't have to deal with him anymore. It was all he could feel, the abundant amount of silent judgment placed on him by his wife's kin.

 

What made it worse was the horror of having to share a bed with her again; there was no way he'd be able to get away with sleeping on the couch, and he wasn't about to resort to sleeping on the floor, not with his back. If this were a phase, a fleeting bout of domestic dissociation, he would have felt the urge to turn over and embrace her, or she would have cozied up to him. But it never happened.

 

When the chance came to hang out with her brother, he jumped at the opportunity, just to get some time away. Not only was it worth it for the milkshake, but the seats in his friend's car were freakin' _massage_ chairs. Never had he been more grateful for a spontaneous food run. His back rejoiced at the rhythmic kneading, and it was in that moment that he realized this was what he needed. He needed to invest in a massage chair. It immediately crossed his mind that Christy wouldn't approve, she'd say it wasn't worth the money, but she didn't know how much pain he was in, and, somehow, he felt she wouldn't believe him if he told her. He dismissed her expected disapproval as quickly as it came; he didn't care what she thought, it was his money, it was what he wanted. He could get himself a massage chair if he very well damn pleased. So he would. It would be a Christmas present to himself.

 

The end of their stay could not come soon enough. They still had a couple more stops to make before returning home, but Christy thankfully offered to go back home on her own, instead of visiting the Neals. Great. That was it, if this wasn't the blatant end of their marriage, he didn't know what was. Funny, he'd suffered the stay with her family, she couldn't do the same. Of course, he was more relieved than anything. He spent some alone time with his mother, and it gave him a chance to return to his phone. It was a couple days after Christmas that Rhett posted an Instagram story claiming that he had friends aside from Link. It hurt, stung like a sharp needle straight through the heart, but he also found it pathetic, sad that the other man had to validate his not-being-lonely by shouting it out to anyone who took the time to watch his little video. At least Link kept quiet in his solitude, though, they weren't much different in their approach toward moving on. They had both turned to social media. And Link knew this was the opportune moment to start posting more on Twitter, starting with an awesome fan video, followed by some incredible art work he found for Buddy System; he appreciated his fans, so why not support them by sharing their work? He may not say much, but he could at least show that he cared.

 

As if life weren't ironic enough, Rhett just had to be on the same plane home. And what made it worse, he didn't know how to explain the fact that Christy wasn't there with him and the kids. Not that he had to, it wasn't any of Rhett's business, they weren't talking; for all he knew, Christy might have had to rush home for one reason or another. Needless to say, it was extremely uncomfortable.

 

As soon as they reached home sweet home, Link felt like crashing, mentally exhausted from the overbearing anxiety of having to actually interact with Rhett again once break was over. He still had a few more days, but he had no idea how to occupy himself until then.

 

He got the answer almost as soon as he walked through the door.

 

Christy called him over to the kitchen table, where he immediately saw, placed in front of her, what were, clearly, divorce papers.

 

"You don't have to sign them until you have a place to stay. You can also decide to turn yourself around. It's up to you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to really force this out, I haven't been able to focus on it like I've been wanting to, I've been so sick and stressed, and still pretty unsure about it. The only reason I wrote this was because someone helped motivate me, which I am so thankful for. I know it's not much, and it's probably pretty disappointing, and, honestly, there's a point within this story where things began to veer off from how I would have liked to write it, but hopefully people can bear with me. Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I'll add that, I haven't only been writing this for myself, but I've been writing it for someone that I hope is reading, and I'm not talking about my former best friend, I'm hoping they know who they are. I don't know how else to say it.

That first day back was painful. No amount of mental preparation had been able to ease the dread he felt in having to walk through those doors and pretend everything was fine, in having to accept that no one knew, or could know, what he was going through, both at work _and_ at home, and most certainly not in having to see Rhett again. Although he had the protection of his elusive poker face, it was excruciatingly awkward; he didn't know how to act, how to smile without it seeming fake, or how to speak to anyone without his depression seeping out through the cadence of his voice, so, despite his desire to reconnect with his friends, the employees that loyally helped to keep the mythical vision alive, a group of people he was extremely grateful for, he found it easier to just avoid them until he had to take that fateful seat beside his former best friend.      

 

It was hard to look into the camera and convey any kind of positivity, everything he'd been so sure about, his dream life, had turned into a soul-crushing nightmare that he feared he may never wake up from, but he knew a lot of their fans counted on them to be the motivation they needed, a ray of light, a beacon of hope, something to cheer them up when life wasn't living up to their expectations, and he couldn't let them down, no matter how discouraged he felt; he had to be the prime example of what a mythical beast should be.

 

He was hyper-aware of Rhett sitting next to him, of the taller man's effort to not glance his way until it was absolutely necessary, and of the fact that he couldn't possibly be any more uncomfortable. His hands were shaking, his breathing was labored; he felt like he was on the verge of total mental collapse. He needed a distraction. So he closed his eyes and thought of the perfect fan, someone who understood the turmoil he was going through, someone who loved him, for him, no matter what, someone who watched the show religiously, specifically for him, someone he could focus on, telling himself that all the discomfort and frustration would be worth it if he "spoke" to someone specific, someone who needed him just as much as he needed them. It was a fantasy that made him feel a little weird, and he knew it would most likely always remain a fantasy, but it did help, giving him the motivation he needed to get through the next forty-five minutes.

 

This was the first video of the new year, meaning he had to be extra upbeat, so, as soon as Stevie said they were rolling, he opened his eyes and threw the camera every ounce of enthusiasm he could muster. He pictured someone out there smiling because of him, and it somehow made the over-exuberance feel less depleting. Eventually, he began to relax, opening up in a way that actually felt good, hinting at an aspect of his sexuality in a very subtle, yet not-so-subtle if you were the right kind of person, action, something he'd done a handful of times, but had always felt regret and embarrassment in doing. This time there was no regret. This time, he felt like there was someone out there who might enjoy the small insight into what he liked. He found himself taking every opportunity he could to talk about himself, almost like he was giving someone, who he was pretty sure didn't even exist, the chance to get to know him better, advertizing himself to a figment of his imagination. He figured it could do no harm, he was just being himself, it was refreshing, and it wasn't like he had anything to lose.      

 

The segment went surprisingly well for him, he ended up feeling completely at ease, but as soon as the More segment rolled around, anxiety crept back into his system, and he was glad that a few members of the  crew had decided to join them, thankful that he didn't have to be alone with Rhett for another ten minutes, or so. Unfortunately, he still felt like he had to avoid them, unsure of how to interact with any of them without throwing off the celebratory mood. He used the same tactic, focusing on himself and what he liked. No one seemed to notice, they actually seemed to be ignoring him, but at least he didn't have to think too much.

 

When the work day was finally over, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go home or not, he wished he could reside back to his room and release all of the tension that had accumulated, but there was no chance of that, considering things were just as awkward between him and Christy. He had been so sure that he wanted a divorce, but after being faced with the threat, the thought of having to figure out what to do and where to go was horribly overwhelming, so he decided to suck it up and try to be practical, even if it was just to buy himself more time, besides, he couldn't do that to the kids, not unless he had a solid plan. He felt guilty about the whole thing, guilty for no longer loving Christy the way he used to, for how his heart wasn't in it when he continued to say "I love you", for staying even though he wasn't even partially happy, especially when his foul mood was starting to affect his family; but that was cold, hard reality, you couldn't risk everything you've worked hard for, you couldn't risk the well-being of the people you cared about, if there was no guarantee that things would work out if you just up and left. And that was exceptionally true if the success of your whole career revolved around what your fans thought of you. If he and Christy got divorced, if his fans found out, there was no doubt in his mind that they would judge him ruthlessly. And that terrified him.           


End file.
